Checking Out
by QuMerc
Summary: Grocery shopping wasn't supposed to be dangerous.
1. Chapter 1

Checking Out

"I can't see why you couldn't come by yourself, Jim." Blair muttered as he breezed through the door of Mackie's Family Grocery Store. "It's late and I could be at home working on tomorrow's lecture."

The detective smiled. "Well, Chief, you're the one who drank the last of the milk. _You_ should have bought some. It's only fair that I drag you out at midnight to get it."

Blair grimaced. "I drank it this morning and if you hadn't had me running all over town today and most of tonight with you, I would have bought some."

"Criminals don't work from 9 to 5, Chief," Jim replied reasonably as he grabbed a shopping cart.

Blair's eyes widened. "A cart?! We just need milk, man."

The detective shrugged as the two headed toward the first aisle. "While we're here we might as well stock up on groceries. We need quite a few things."

Blair rolled his eyes as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his blue jeans. "We'll be here forever."

"Quit your complaining, Chief." Jim looked around the store. "We'll be out of here in no time. There aren't too many people around."

"Yeah," Blair replied. "Most people are probably doing more productive things at this time of night."

Jim smiled, amused. "Hey, Sandburg, don't blame me for the sorry state of your love life."

Blair blushed. "That's not what I meant." He glanced around, trying to ignore Jim's laughter. Seeing two men enter the grocery store, he scowled. "What's that you were saying about not too many people around?"

Jim glanced at the two men and frowned. Eyes narrowed, he felt the flicker of apprehension dance along his spine. There was something familiar about these two. Where had he seen them?

Lost in thought, he didn't realize Sandburg was calling to him until he felt the hand on his arm. Blinking, his eyes focused on the worried face of his guide.

"Jim? You okay, man?" Blair asked, staring up at him.

With an easy smile, Jim waved Blair's concern away. "Yeah, I'm fine. No problem."

The younger man removed his hand from Jim's arm only to run it through his curls. "What was that all about?"

Jim shrugged. "Nothing. I thought maybe I saw someone I knew."

"Those two men?" Blair probed.

Jim gave him an exasperated look. "Yeah, Chief. I thought I recognized them, but I can't remember where. Satisfied?" He moved forward and Sandburg fell in step beside him.

"Hmmm..." Blair mused as they walked down the first aisle. "I wonder where you know them from. Maybe you've worked with them before?"

Jim reached for a six pack of beer and placed it in the basket. "I don't know, Sandburg. Hell, it could be my eyes playing tricks on me."

The younger man's forehead wrinkled in amazement. "Your eyes playing tricks on you? You've gotta be kidding, right?" He shook his head.

Laughing, Jim lightly slapped his companion on the back. "It does sound kind of funny, doesn't it?" Blair just rolled his eyes at him. He continued, "Look, don't worry about it. If it's important, it'll come back to me. Now, why don't you make yourself useful and get the milk and meet me in the frozen food section."

Blair shot him another look and muttered. "Make myself useful...what does he think I do on a daily basis? I'll show him useful."

As he moved off, Jim called to him. "Oh, pick up a package of Oreo cookies on the way back."

Blair turned to him. "Jim, those aren't very healthy--"

"Enough, Sandburg. If you value your dissertation, you'll bring me my cookies."

Blair grinned suddenly, causing Jim to wonder what was going on in the anthropologist's head. "Sure, Jim, no problem."

Jim watched him walk away. Softly spoken words only a Sentinel could hear floated back to him and Jim finally understood Blair's Cheshire cat grin. "I'll get the low fat cookies."

"Sandburg..." Jim muttered as he turned down the pasta aisle, losing sight of his guide.

"Excuse me, ma'am." Jim spoke to the middle-aged woman as he reached passed her for Blair's favorite spaghetti noodles.

The woman smiled and batted her mascara-laden eyelashes at him. "No problem." She wiggled her hips at Jim.

Jim almost laughed, but settled for strolling purposefully away. He'd never really considered the grocery store a great place to pick up a date, but apparently others had.

He turned the corner and found himself surrounded by diapers and other baby paraphernalia. Jim groaned. He thought this would be the cereal aisle. Sighing, he was about to turn around when a young woman about Blair's age caught his attention. She was trying to reach the baby formula on the top shelf.

"Here," Jim strolled over to her. "Let me get that for you. How many cans do you need?"

The young woman smiled up at him. "Thanks. I need at least six cans. Sarah needs a special formula and they always put it where I can't reach."

Jim handed the six cans to the petite woman. She placed them in her basket.

"So, how old is Sarah?" Jim asked.

Happiness filled the woman's hazel eyes. "Sarah's almost three months and she's beautiful. She takes after my husband."

Jim raised an eyebrow. "Oh, I don't know. Looks like she'd take after you."

The woman blushed. "Thank you. Guess I'll see you around."

Jim nodded as she turned and left. He headed for the cereal aisle. Here he found a young man in his late teens stocking up on boxes of Wheaties. Jim counted two boxes in the man's basket and two boxes in his hands. The young man was wearing a Rainier sweatshirt and was built like an ox.

_College student. Probably plays on the football team. Possible member of a fraternity_. Jim reasoned, his detective skills automatically cataloging the person in front of him. Jim passed him and grabbed some Frosted Flakes for himself before going to the nuts and grains cereals for Blair's breakfast of choice.

_Interesting who you meet at a grocery store late at night_. Jim mused.

Selecting Blair's cereal, Jim turned toward the front of the store in the direction of the bakery.

* * * *

Blair set the half gallon of milk down on the ground and reached for the Oreo cookies. Holding the low fat cookies in one hand and the regular cookies in the other, Blair weighed his options. _I could get the healthier cookies..._ the thought trailed off. He didn't know if Jim would be upset about it or not. You just couldn't tell with Jim sometimes. Blair, himself, couldn't taste the difference between the low fat and the regular cookies. However, he didn't have Jim's sensitive taste buds, either.

Blair was just returning the low fat cookies to the shelf, deciding to be on the safe side, when he heard his name called. The long-haired man turned and smiled at the newcomer. "Hey, Tommy. How are you?"

The broad-shouldered young man pulled his basket alongside Blair. "Just great, teach. Ran out of food at the frat house and it was my turn to make a grocery run."

Blair eyed his former student as the other man tugged at his Rainier sweatshirt. "Gee, Tommy. You guys go through food faster than the speed of light."

Tommy laughed and brushed at his blond crew-cut. "Well, teach, we're a bunch of football and soccer players. We need the food."

Blair was still smiling when he reached down and picked up the milk he'd left on the floor. "Tommy, I haven't seen David. How did he do last semester?" he asked.

The Rainier undergrad looked down at Blair. He towered over his former teacher by at least six inches. "David did great. He's been meaning to go over to your office and thank you for tutoring him in history. If it hadn't been for you, David wouldn't have passed and he would have been kicked off the team."

"Oh, I don't know about that." Tucking the big bag of cookies under his arm, Blair brushed a strand of hair from his face.

"It's true," Tommy insisted. "Anyway, David will probably come by this week. It's been kind of hectic."

"Always is at the beginning of a new semester. Tell him to come by anytime. And if any of you need anything, let me know."

"Same goes for you, teach," Tommy replied. "Listen, gotta go. Reza was begging for some apples when I left."

Blair laughed. "He's still on that fruit kick, huh?" At Tommy's nod, he continued, "That's good. Didn't ever think we were going to break him from the chips and soda habit."

"Oh, he still craves carbonated caffeine once in a while, but it's okay. Later, teach. See ya around campus."

"Bye, Tommy." Blair watched the younger man steer the cart like an Indy 500 driver. He careened around the corner and disappeared.

_Better go find Jim_, Blair thought. _I should have met him a long time ago. He could be anywhere in the store by now. _He passed the young woman with the diapers in her basket and began searching the aisles for his partner.

* * * *

The Sentinel was just reaching for two loaves of bread--one white, one wheat--when his keen hearing picked up conversation at the register.

"Look, son, don't cause me or my partner any trouble here. We have guns and we're not afraid to use them. Now, we want all the money you've got in the store," growled a deep voice.

Jim dropped the bread in the basket and turned around to look. There were two men roughly medium height towering over the teenaged checker. They were the same two men who had entered the store minutes behind him and Sandburg.

The teenager's voice wobbled. "I--I have to get the manager."

"Then page him. But no funny business you got it, kid? There's a gun pointed at you."

Jim assessed the situation and reached for his gun. Frowning, he tried again to place the two men. _I know I've seen them before_. He sighed angrily. _Come on, Ellison, think!_

He heard a scream and instinctively pointed his gun in that direction. Figuring out who the men were would have to wait. Looking quickly, he saw the middle-aged woman who had flirted with him earlier staring at the two men and the checker.

At the same time, Blair came bounding around the corner, milk in one hand and a bag of Oreos in the other. The anthropologist's eyes focused on Jim.

"Jim, did you hear--" Blair spoke out loud as he got closer. He interrupted himself when he saw the gun in the detective's hand.

Blair's eyes traveled from Jim's gun to the two men Jim had said appeared familiar to him. They both now had guns pointed at a woman. "Oh, no," the teacher muttered. "Man, can't we even go grocery shopping without starting a small war?"

"Freeze! Police!" Ellison shouted.

The robbers whirled on Jim and began firing.

Jim dropped down and crouched behind the donut table. He yelled, "Get down, Blair!"

The anthropologist had already ducked behind the Coca-Cola display. He prayed that the cases of soda would be ample protection. Blair winced as he heard cans of soda hiss as the bullets pierced through the aluminum.

Blair ducked even lower and chanced to peer around the display. Jim had managed to topple over the table of pies and muffins and was using it as a shield. He was returning fire.

Blair sighed in relief only to jerk in alarm at a sound he'd hoped never to hear. He looked passed Jim at the scene before him. The woman's agonized cry was cut short as a second and third bullet struck her. She collapsed and didn't move.

Blair's stomach threatened to crawl up into his mouth as the teenage cashier gave a shout. "No!" Blair couldn't even see him. The teenager had dropped to the floor as soon as the bullets began to fly.

Blair suddenly recalled his own precarious position as a bullet took out the sales sign atop the Coke display. He ducked back down, but peeked out.

"Jim," he called. "What--" Blair's eyes widened in horror as he took in the sight of his partner. Dimly, he was aware of one of the gunmen speaking.

"Put the gun down or you'll get it next, cop!"

Blair swallowed. Jim wasn't going to move. He'd zoned out, his gaze locked on to the dead woman's body.

"Jim," he called. "Come on, snap out of it." To himself he muttered, "Please, Jim. Please. Work with me here."

The Sentinel didn't respond and Blair saw the gunman turn his weapon on Jim. In a split second, the Guide was up and running toward his partner.

The bullet burrowed through Blair's body as he threw himself against his friend. The detective blinked in sudden awareness and tried to shift under the weight that was pressing him to the floor.

Jim glanced up. "Blair? What--" He stopped suddenly, feeling the wetness of the precious blood against his back and side. The Sentinel's extreme sense of touch made it all the more unbearable to feel his partner's blood seeping from his body.

He didn't stop to think about it. Blair's body lay heavy against him and the Sentinel could hear the slow beat of his heart. Quickly, Jim flipped his partner under him and brought his gun up.

Too late. In his concern for Blair, Jim was unaware of the two gunmen approaching. Two guns were now trained on him. Jim Ellison froze.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: The Sentinel and its characters belong to Bilson DeMeo of Pet Fly. No copyright infringement intended.

Note: Thanks so much for all the wonderful reviews for chapter 1. I appreciate them very much! I meant to post this last night, but I wasn't feeling too well. Better late than never, right?

* * *

Chapter 2

"Move away from him," gesturing with his gun, the shorter of the two thieves spoke harshly.

Still leaning over Blair, Jim's eyes narrowed. He could hear his partner's heart beating steadily and his pain-filled breathing, but he hadn't been able to determine the extent of Blair's injuries. "He's hurt and needs a doctor."

"I said step away." The other man's tone dipped dangerously.

Jim was equally foreboding. "No, he stays with me." He placed a possessive hand on Blair's shoulder, the wetness of his blood staining Sentinel fingers.

The other leaned down next to the unconscious man on the floor. Jim tracked his movements and his jaw clenched as the man cocked his pistol and placed the muzzle against Blair's head.

"I'm not going to ask again, Ellison."

Jim stared hard at the man. His eyes widened when the puzzle he'd been worrying over since he had entered the store finally solved itself. "Jericho." He breathed. Turning to the second thief, he bit out. "Cameron. Where there's one, there's the other."

Jericho gave a short laugh. "I was wondering when you would figure it out. It's been a long time, Ellison. I didn't recognize you earlier. My fault for not paying attention. No matter. I still have everything well in hand."

Jim gritted his teeth. "I wasn't aware you'd been paroled. The last place I expected to see you is in the grocery story--robbing it. Stealing cars was always more your style."

Jericho shrugged, waving his gun in the air, away from Blair. "I've moved up in the world. And I'd say this works for me. Maybe I've found my calling, eh?"

"Yeah," Jim snorted. "You've just added murder to your repertoire. And if my partner doesn't get medical help soon, you can add killing a cop to your list." No need for Jericho to know Blair didn't officially carry a badge.

"What's one more?" Jericho again put the muzzle of the gun to Blair's head and Jim stiffened. "You've distracted me long enough, Ellison. Move away from him." He nudged Blair's head with the gun for emphasis. "I can end it all right now if that's what you want."

The threat to Blair was obvious to Jim. No. The bastard wouldn't have to say it again. Jim reluctantly eased away from his partner. "They won't need a cell for you, Jericho. I'm going to send you straight to hell."

"I'd like to see you try, Ellison." Jericho's eyes were hard. "Just remember who has the gun...and your partner."

Jim opened his mouth to reply when Blair moaned. The Sentinel turned intense blue eyes to his friend and saw the younger man's eyes flicker and open. They stared fuzzily at him. "Take it easy, Chief. Take it easy," Jim murmured. He was relieved to see Blair conscious. It was a good sign, but they still weren't out of the woods yet.

Jericho laughed and Blair turned toward the sound. His eyes widened as the pain induced fog cleared in his brain somewhat and he realized what was going on. "Jim--" he shifted slightly and another moan shot from his lips as pain lanced through him.

Instinctively, Jim took a step forward. The long barrel of a gun prodded him back. He glared at Cameron who had come to stand behind him. He turned back to Blair. "Just relax, okay? Keep breathing. Everything's under control."

Jericho laughed again. "You'd like to believe that wouldn't you--Jim?" He said in a faintly mocking tone. "Empty your pockets, detective." He added and held out his hand.

Jim glanced at his friend once more before reaching into his coat and pulling out his wallet. He handed it over as Cameron closed in on him from behind. The detective briefly considered taking the new threat and grabbing his ankle gun to finish Jericho.

Jericho must have seen the look of determination on his face and read Jim's intentions. "I don't think so," the gunman looked hard at the detective. "This young man is our insurance. Any wrong move on your part and your friend here is history."

The muscles in his jaw clenched, Jim nodded. The thief still knelt beside Blair, the gun hovering just inches from his partner's ear. He saw Blair glance sideways toward the gun before focusing on Jim. The detective read acceptance and trust in his friend's eyes.

"Now, hands in the air."

Jim obeyed the command, his mind working furiously trying to find a way out of this mess. With Sandburg hurt and a gun pointed at his head, Jim didn't have any options. He glared at his captor.

With satisfaction, the man kneeling next to Blair nodded at his companion. Cameron began frisking Jim. The Sentinel seethed inwardly as the gun from his ankle holster was removed and his cell phone was taken.

"Very impressive, Detective Ellison. But you won't be needing any of this." Jericho said to Jim before turning to Cameron. "How many are in the store?"

"There are six people alive--two customers, the manager and the clerk plus these two." Cameron replied.

Jericho nodded. "Is it being taken care of?"

"Yeah. He's got 'em together. Just like you planned."

Jericho grinned. "It's always nice to have a back-up plan, eh, detective?"

Jim's stomach churned. So there was another in the store. That didn't bode well. Suddenly, Jim's ears perked up. He could hear sirens in the distance getting closer. Someone must have heard the gunfire and called the police. Help was already on the way. He just wondered if it would do any good.

Jericho gripped Sandburg's collar and in one fluid motion, rose to his feet. Blair jerked upward and he moaned, his eyes glazed in pain.

Jim took a step forward, but stopped as the gun was once again placed against the younger man's temple.

"You hurt him anymore and my promise still stands. Straight to hell." Jim hissed.

The man clutching Blair chuckled. "I always did like you, Ellison. You always did have that Clint Eastwood mentality." He dismissed Jim with a glance. Turning to Cameron, he gestured toward the back. "Make sure you secure the teenage boy with the others. Then camp out close to the front. I want us out of sight, but able to see what's going on outside. We'll be having company soon, I'm sure."

Cameron nodded and disappeared among the aisles.

"Come, detective. You're needed elsewhere." Jericho lowered Blair to the ground.

Jim looked at his Guide who was very still, eyes closed. He wanted to move to him, to make sure he was all right. The detective didn't even know if the bullet had passed through or was still lodged in Blair's shoulder. "I'm not leaving him, you asshole!"

The other man clipped him across the side of the head with the butt of his gun. Jim fell to his knees with a small cry of pain, vision blurring for a moment.

"Enough, detective, I don't have time for heroics," The man spoke. "Now, on your feet."

Jim glanced at Blair as he stood. _I'll get you out of this, buddy. Just hang on_, he thought to himself.

The gun-toting thief caught the glance. He laughed cruelly. "Don't worry. You'll soon be re-united. I'm going to put you on ice. Give you a chance to cool down while I settle some business." He laughed again as he walked toward Jim.

The detective moved to the back of the store as the gun prodded against his back. _On ice_, he thought. _Man, Jericho can't even be original. I know where this is going_. He could handle this. It was Blair he was worried about. The Sentinel could still smell the young man's blood, could feel it seep through the layers of the skin of his hand where it covered him, slipping into his bloodstream. And he wanted to scream in frustration.

"Here we are," Jim's captor interrupted his anguished thoughts. He indicated the freezer. "Step in there, detective."

Jim turned to look at him. "Why?" he challenged. "You've got me over a barrel and you know it. I'm no threat to you. Why lock me away?"

"Aw, Detective Ellison, but you are a threat. I've got your friend out there--a close friend if I'm not mistaken. That makes you more dangerous than a Grizzly guarding her young. I'm not ready to take the chance of having you free. I much rather like the idea that you'll be stewing in here, wondering if your friend is alive or dead, while I make sure everything is to my satisfaction. Once everything is to my liking, I will release you from your icy prison."

"He'd better stay alive, Jericho." Jim said with barely controlled anger. Losing his temper wouldn't do him--or Blair--any good. He drew upon every ounce of control he had, every amount of training he possessed and waited for the next move.

"That's entirely up to him, now isn't it?" the other man smiled. "Inside, detective. We must hurry this along. I can hear some of your colleagues approaching now. I'll be back for you soon. Just *chill* out." The twisted laugh vibrated through the meat locker as Jim was pushed in.

The detective turned to Jericho, but the door slammed shut before he could say anything. Jim was suddenly in the dark.

He adjusted his Sentinel sight, rushed to the door, and pushed. No luck. It was sealed tight. He knew it would be, but he felt the need to try anyway. The detective cursed. No windows and a locked door. He was effectively trapped.

Jim stood there, contemplating his next move. He was surrounded by sides of beef and trays of meat. The cold started to seep through his jacket, but he ignored it. He was more concerned with more pressing matters.

He glanced around again. There really was no way out, save the way he came in. Jim would just have to wait until one of his captors came for him. He had no doubt that they would. They'd need him to negotiate with the police. Being one of them, he would be the logical choice.

The detective gritted his teeth. He could try to overpower one of them, but it might make the situation worse. Hell, he knew it would. There were hostages, Blair among them, that had to be considered.

Just thinking about Blair caused Jim to growl in frustration. It had only taken Jim seconds to realize he'd zoned out. Blair had taken that bullet for him. Jim cursed and shoved his cold hands into his jacket pockets. It was just like Blair to risk his life for the Sentinel. Jim knew his friend hadn't given it a second thought. Throwing himself against Jim to get him out of the way of the bullet was as natural as breathing for Blair. The younger man sometimes did things without thought, depending on luck--and Jim--to get him out of any trouble that he might find himself in. It was a trait that often exasperated Jim and made him proud at the same time. Except this time, it had gotten Blair into serious trouble--trouble that Jim couldn't rescue him from right now. Now, Jim was mad. He was both angry at himself and at Blair. The younger man should never have had to make the decision to risk his life. If Jim hadn't zoned, everything would have been under control. He could have stopped this. But, dammit, that woman had been killed in cold blood. Jim should have seen it coming, should have prevented it. He looked down at his blood covered hands and sighed. He had a crazy thought that he'd never be able to scrub his hands clean. Lady Macbeth had nothing on Jim Ellison.

The Sentinel's head jerked sharply as a noise caught his attention. Sounds of sirens whooped and he tuned into the action taking place far from the freezer, outside of the glass walls of the grocery store.

* * *

"Looks pretty quiet, Edward." The female officer turned to her partner in the passenger seat.

Edward nodded. "Yeah, let's check it out." He swung himself out of the car and noticed the small cluster of people standing across the half empty parking lot of the grocery store. "Annie, looks like we have an audience."

Annie checked her weapon and shut her door. "One of those people must have called it in."

As if on cue, an old man detached himself from the group and made his way over to the patrol car and its officers. "Ma'am, sir, I'm Tully Edgars. I'm the one who called the police."

"I'm Annie Deveroux and this is my partner, Officer Edward Ortiz. Tell us what happened." Annie was all business. It was late and her shift should have ended ten minutes ago, but they had responded to the call.

The man pushed his glasses back up on his nose. "I heard shots, officer. Someone's in there and they have guns. You've got to do something."

"Take it easy, sir," Edward spoke calmly. "Why don't you go stand back with your neighbors. I'm sure we'll be talking to you again."

"You sure you don't need any help? Sounded like there were lots of guns. I was the best marksman in the war, you know. If you want me to--" The older man was interrupted.

"That's okay, sir. We'll take care of it. Just stay out of harm's way." Annie guided him back to the small group. She returned to her partner. "God, save me from helpful citizens."

Edward chuckled softly, "Let's go check it out. We better make it good, too. Wouldn't want to disappoint our audience."

"All right." Annie nodded her dark head, instantly taking charge of the situation. "You approach the doors from the left and I'll come in from the right."

The two officers split up and advanced to the grocery store entrance from different directions. Looking through the glass, they scanned the interior.

"Oh my God, Annie. Look!" Edward's voice was harsh.

"I see. She's been shot, but I can't tell if she's alive or dead." Annie couldn't take her eyes from the body on the floor. The officer raised her weapon.

"There's a smeared trail of blood about a dozen feet away. Annie, we've got to go in there."

"Yeah," Annie sounded determined. "On three. One...two..."

A shot rang out.

"Annie? Annie! Are you all right? Where are you hit?" Edward was at her side in an instant.

"Arm." The female officer gritted her teeth. "It's not bad, but it hurts like hell. Damned bastards."

"Come on. Let's get back to the car. I'm calling for an ambulance and back up."

* * *

Jim slumped against the wall, drained. An officer had been wounded. Could this nightmare get any worse? At least it hadn't sounded as if the officer had been hurt too badly. Guilt threatened to overwhelm him. The situation had escalated out of control in such a short period of time and now he was in a freezer, unable to stop it from spiraling further.

"Damn it," he growled under his breath. "Why didn't I call for back up first?"

_Because, Ellison_, he thought to himself, _you thought you could handle it on your own. Never mind your partner, never mind the innocent customers. You thought that you alone could stop this._ He angrily slammed an open palm against the door. _Well, Ellison, a person died because of your arrogance and your partner...best friend has been shot_.

If Jim didn't do something soon, Blair could die and it would be Jim's fault. "I'm sorry, buddy, I'm sorry. Just hang in there. Please. Stay with me." Jim's voice sounded loud to his Sentinel ears and he winced. He'd had his hearing opened full, hoping to learn something useful, something that would get everyone out of this safely.

Puffs of air formed clouds as Jim breathed heavily. It was getting colder in the freezer and using his Sentinel abilities to ignore it wouldn't do him any good in the long run. He couldn't afford to ignore his body's warning signals as he started to lose heat. Jim hoped that something would happen soon. He couldn't stay in the freezer for very much longer before buckling under the exposure to the cold.

Jim shook himself. He had to focus on something else. He refused to give up. Blair. He'd focus on his partner. In his mind's eye, letting his hearing lead him, Jim sought out his friend and found the heartbeat.

"He still out cold?" Jim recognized Jericho. He was talking about Blair. The Sentinel shut his eyes against the anger which threatened to explode within him. There would be time for that later. He listened and tried to imagine himself there.

* * *

Tommy looked up from the floor, Blair propped against his knees. The anthropologist's eyes were closed.

"Yeah," the Rainier football player's voice shook with angry defiance. "You dragged him, man. Are you crazy? He's got a bullet lodged in his shoulder and all that movement just aggravated it. Bullets travel within the body, you know."

The gunman leveled his weapon at the young man. "I suggest you be a little more polite, son. Unless, of course, you want to end up like your friend here."

"Sure," Tommy said, sarcastically. "You're all big and bad with that gun--"

"Stop it!" the blond woman hissed at him. "Stop it. You'll only get yourself hurt, maybe killed." She was on the verge of tears.

"Listen to the little lady, son. She knows the score. What's your name, sweetheart?" The gun never wavered.

The woman swallowed. "Um...Lily."

Jericho smiled. "Lily. Like the flower. How lovely." He turned back to the blond man in the sweatshirt. "What about you? You have a name?"

"Name's Tommy. Look, we need to stop the bleeding and get some blankets. He's gonna go into shock."

The thief shrugged indolently. "So? What's it matter to me? One less hostage for me to worry about."

Tommy's anger flared again. "He needs help, man. The cops will be more willing to work with you if you help him."

"You've got to be kidding, kid. I've already killed once and I *know* I shot one of those dumb cops outside. You think they'll negotiate with me?"

"How else do you expect to get the hell out of here? They'll have to talk to you." Tommy was pleading.

The gunman paused, considering. "You have a point. They'll want all of you back safe. And I have that cop in the freezer to help me negotiate."

Tommy pounced on this new information. "You have a cop in the freezer?"

The other nodded as the store personnel and Lily looked on. "Yeah. In fact, that guy here is his partner."

The football player looked down at Blair before returning his gaze to the man who held their lives in his hands. "That's all the more reason to keep him alive, then. If he's in with the cops and he dies...You know how cops are. They protect their own."

"You got a point, kid." The gunman turned to one of his companions. "Take Lily here and the clerk shopping." He turned to the thin teenager who was sitting in the corner of the aisle, knees drawn up.

"You know where everything is, right? Help her find the stuff she needs to take care of our friend here."

The teenager nodded and stumbled to his feet. He looked at Lily nervously. She met his gaze with a tremulous smile. "Come on," she said. "We can do this. He needs our help."

"Hurry," Tommy said, urgently. "He's bleeding pretty bad."

TBC

* * *

Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

***Disclaimer: The Sentinel belongs to Pet Fly. No copyright infringement intended.**

**Note: A big thanks to all of you who are reading. I really appreciate the comments. I hope you enjoy this next part.**

* * *

Chapter 3

Blair was bleeding badly and the bullet was still in him. Jim clenched his jaw. His partner needed to get to a hospital. No telling what damage the bullet had done when Blair had been shifted around. _Dammit. What am I going to do?_ He had never felt so helpless. Some Blessed Protector he turned out to be. "Don't give up on me, Chief," Jim whispered. "We can still get out of this. Just give me some time. Keep breathing and I'll think of something."

Desperately, Jim looked at the closed door again. A prisoner, that's what he was. A helpless prisoner. If only he could get out of the freezer, find a gun, call Simon.... He slumped against the cold, metal door in despair.

Maybe he ought to listen to what was happening outside. More cops should have arrived by now. An officer down usually had the scene of a crime swarming in minutes with police personnel. They were a close-knit society and no doubt Blair would find plenty of evidence throughout all the cultures he'd studied that would support that theory.

The Sentinel sighed. Thinking about Blair would do him no good right now. He would just get lost in his own worry. More than anything, he needed to keep himself together. Getting himself under control, Jim listened to the growing activity taking place outside in the parking lot.

* * *

"We have a robbery in progress with hostages." A voice registered in Jim's brain. "Has anyone come out to make any demands?"

"No, Detective Sorenson," someone replied. "We have no idea who we are dealing with."

"Guess we'll have to wait it out." Detective Sorenson replied. "God, I hate waiting. Any news on Officer Deveroux?"

"She's going to be all right, sir. Just a flesh wound."

"That's good to hear." The detective looked around the parking lot. He and his partner had been the first to respond to the officer down call. Now he stood, trench coat flapping in the breeze, surveying the situation. There were at least four black and white units and a few unmarked vehicles, his among them. Two ambulances also sat in the parking lot, engines running, waiting for casualties.

Detective Sorenson glanced across the street at the ever growing crowd. His partner, Kendall Woods, was questioning the group. The detective's gaze was cut off by the arrival of a press van.

"Shit! Just what I don't need," he muttered. Turning, he called the nearest pair of officers over. "Make sure the press stays out of the way."

"Detective Sorenson!" a young policeman shouted.

Sorenson looked around sharply. "Yeah, what is it, Michaelson."

"That truck over there, the '69 pickup. I think it belongs to Detective Ellison."

"Ellison of Major Crimes?" Sorenson questioned. He knew of Jim Ellison. The man had a reputation all over headquarters. With his high criminal arrest record, he was good...if not the best.

"Yeah. I remember he had to get a new set of wheels when he wrecked his Expedition a while back," Michaelson replied.

"We need to make sure. It's a classic. Shouldn't be too hard to figure who it belongs to. In fact, run all the plates through. Not many in this parking lot maybe we'll get lucky and find out who may be behind all of this. In any case, we'll be able to determine how many hostages may be in there."

"I'm on it, sir," Michaelson said.

"Good," Detective Sorenson replied. "If Ellison is in there, it might give us the edge. Call his captain, too. Banks will want to know what's going on."

* * *

Jim shook his head and sighed. It wasn't every day that he counted his senses as blessings, but today was one of them. He was glad he had tuned into the police outside. Someone had recognized his truck. Simon would be arriving soon. He trusted the other officers to do their job, but knowing his captain would be out there running things, made the detective breathe a whole lot easier.

As for having an edge...Jim laughed derisively. At present, he couldn't do anything until they let him out of this sub-zero box. He began to pace, thinking over his predicament and trying to keep warm at the same time. Maybe if he looked at it from another angle. There had to be a way out of this.

Moving back and forth, deep in thought, he almost didn't hear it. He froze and listened intently for the small sound that had caught his attention.

Low and roughened with pain, it came again. "Jim."

Jim's heart clenched at the single word. His name. Willing himself to concentrate, ignoring the headache that had begun to pound behind his left eye, he listened to his guide's voice.

* * *

Blair lay on the floor, a bag of eight rolls of toilet paper under his head as a pillow. He thought fleetingly that this brand was quite soft. He was also covered by some large towels that Lily and Tommy had found. It seemed that this particular grocery store didn't sell blankets, not even baby blankets.

He shifted and his moan of pain caught Tommy's attention.

"Teach, don't move, okay?" His student leaned over him and adjusted the disposable diaper at Blair's shoulder. If it hadn't hurt so much, Blair would have laughed at the idea of using a diaper to stop his shoulder from bleeding. Now, though, the heavy duty cottony cloth sheathed in plastic was doing its job as a makeshift compress.

"Tommy, is--is everyone all right?"

The younger man nodded. "No one else has been hurt if that's what you mean. The manager, Mr. Biggins, was smacked around a couple of times. He's got one hell of a shiner. Everyone else is cool, though."

Blair took a deep breath and winced. His shoulder felt like it was on fire and he wished he could tune down the pain like Jim. Thinking about his partner, he turned his head looking for him. "Tommy, where's...Jim. My friend. Where is he?"

Tommy looked down at his former teacher. "Are you talking about the cop? He's in the freezer."

Blair shifted in alarm and a cry of pain brought Lily closer to him. "Take it is easy." She glanced nervously over at the three men with guns deep in conversation. The leader gave her a lazy smile, but didn't say anything. "No telling what those guys will do if we keep drawing attention to ourselves."

The wounded man looked at her, silently agreeing. "Ho--how long has Jim been in the freezer?"

"It's been about twenty minutes." Tommy, anticipating Blair's next move, laid a restraining hand on his chest.

As predicted, Blair tried to stir. When another bout of pain threatened to overcome him, he stopped. He would have to work on a way to keep the pain at bay if he were going to help Jim. He just couldn't sit here without trying to help these people. "My partner can't stay in that freezer for very much longer. He'll die..."

"It's okay, teach." And Tommy hoped that it was. "The cops are outside. They're working on getting us out of here."

Blair closed his eyes and saw a picture of Jim, freezing, on his inner eyelids. If he spoke, maybe his Sentinel would hear him. "Jim."

"He'll be okay. They're going to have him do the negotiating." Tommy thought Blair had asked about Jim.

The other man ignored him, intent on talking to his partner. "Jim. We...we're being held in the dry goods section. Aisle 15, I think," Blair gasped. "Jim--"

"Come on, teach, take it easy. Don't move." Tommy soothed. "You're bleeding again."

"S'okay. I'm fine," Blair replied. "Jim, they beat up the manager, but he's okay. Everyone else is fine. Shaken, but okay."

"Come on, man, you have to lie still," Tommy insisted. "Lily, he's talking to someone who's not there. It's worse than I thought. He's delirious and it's scaring the hell out of me."

"We've got to get him some medical attention. He needs a doctor." Lily's voice shook with concern and fear.

"That's not gonna happen anytime soon," Tommy replied, bitterly. "We'll just have to take care of him the best we can."

"Jim..." Blair spoke again.

"There he goes again," Tommy said, sounding helpless. "Please, sir--Blair, just take it easy. Everything's going to be okay."

"I'm fine. Not...delirious." The anthropologist moved, trying to turn his head to look behind him. Pain lanced through him.

"Teach! Don't move. Man, don't do that. You need to relax. Quit movin' around."

"Fine, Tommy. Just...tell me, what are the bad guys doing? Where are they?"

"The three of them are sitting behind you and watching us. I--I think they are trying to decide what to tell the cops outside."

"You get that, Jim?" Blair addressed his invisible friend. "They're still here and they still have guns. At least the cops are here."

"That's it," Tommy stated emphatically. "I'm going over there. Maybe they'll let me go to the pharmacy. There's got to be something there we could use. There may be an infection setting in." He started to rise to his feet when a hand on his arm stopped him. He looked down at Blair.

"No, Tommy. Don't risk it. I--I'll be okay. Just don't do anything foolish. We'll figure a way out of this. Just let me think…." Blair closed his eyes.

"You need to rest, teach." Tommy knelt back down beside him and glanced at Lily.

Lily gave him a shy smile. "You seem to know what you're talking about."

"I'm only in my second year at Rainier, but I want to be an athletic trainer. I've been trying to get a head start, reading about first aid." The young man laughed, bitterly. "Unfortunately, I don't have enough medical background for this situation. I just know it's bad and it's getting worse with every minute that ticks by." He shrugged, helplessly. "There's too much blood, Lily. Too much...."

* * *

Too much blood. Jim leaned his head against the door. There wasn't much else he could do in the tiny confines of his icy prison. He felt helpless. Throughout Blair's explanation, he could hear the pain in his friend's voice. Agony amplified by Sentinel hearing. And it only confirmed Jim's worst fear. His Guide's injury which hadn't been too serious before was fast becoming a critical situation.

"Blair," he whispered. And all at once it wasn't the cold that made him shiver. He was...afraid. His best friend was out there in the hands of some madman, hurt. He was losing blood. Blair could very well die if he didn't get to a hospital soon. "No!" Jim yelled, grabbing some wrapped pork chops and throwing them against the closed door. "I won't let that happen. I won't. You just hang in there, Sandburg. Damn you, stay with me." He reached for another package of meat. And, as it sailed through the air, Jim was struck with an idea.

* * *

Meanwhile, Simon Banks was standing outside of the grocery store, cigar held loosely between two fingers as he gestured. He had been called and roused out of bed when it was confirmed that the pickup did belong to Jim. The captain of the Major Crimes unit was worried about his best detective and his partner because as surely as the sun rose, Blair was with Jim.

Simon turned and spoke to the detective at his side. "Sorenson, has anyone made any attempt to contact the terrorists inside?" In his book, holding hostages made them terrorists.

Sorenson replied, "We tried talking to them, but they're playing a waiting game. No one's saying anything."

Simon cursed. "And we don't know how many hostages are in there or how many injuries or fatalities we may have."

"No, sir." Sorenson looked across the parking lot. "We know that there are two employees in there. A call to the store manager confirmed it. And judging by the cars, there aren't that many people grocery shopping this time of night."

The captain began to pace. "Anyone in that crowd across the street notice anything? Strange people going into the store? A car parked right outside with the engine running?"

"It's the middle of the night, sir. Most of those people were in bed when this whole thing started. The few who were up didn't notice much of anything. Maybe you should talk to Tully Edgars. He's the one who heard the shots and called it in."

Simon nodded and took a puff at his cigar. "Send him over. We need as much info as we can get."

Sorenson shrugged. "He may not be able to help us much, but I'll get him." He turned and yelled at his partner. "Hey, Woods! Send Edgars over here."

"You got it," came the answer.

Simon watched as a dark-skinned older man approached them. "I'm Captain Banks, Mr. Edgars. I'd like to ask you a few questions."

"I've already talked to some policemen, including that nice lady who got shot, but I'll be happy to help in any way I can. Do you need an extra shooter? I was the best marksman in--"

Banks shook his head. "That's all right, Mr. Edgars. What I need to know is if you came out to look when you heard shots fired."

The older man looked indignant. "Of course I did. I have to look after my neighbors, don't I? I'm not afraid of any gang punks..."

"Sir." Simon tried to be patient. "Did you see anything unusual? A car parked close to the entrance, engine running?"

Edgars frowned. "You know, now that you mention it, there was a car. But it lit out of here like a bat out of hell when all the shooting started."

Simon leaned forward eagerly. "Can you describe it?"

"I think so," Edgars replied. "My grandson loves cars. Takes me to those shows all of the time. You know the ones I mean. Cars with souped up engines, racy paint jobs..."

"Mr. Edgars." Banks brought his attention back to the issue at hand. "What did it look like?"

"Oh, yes." The witness thought a moment. "Yes. It was a Camaro. Black with tinted windows."

"Do you know the year?" Simon questioned.

Edgars shook his head. "I'm not sure. It wasn't a bubble top so I don't think it was a new one. It reminded me of a Pontiac Firebird. I'm always getting those two cars mixed up. I'd have to say it was an eighties car."

Simon thanked him and shook his hand. The older man ambled off and the captain turned to Sorenson. "The getaway car is a possible Camaro or Firebird. If he gets them mixed up, we better check for both. I'm willing to bet it's a late eighties model. Send it on through. I want everyone looking for it. And give me that bullhorn. It's about time these clowns knew who they were dealing with."

TBC

* * *

Please leave a comment. Thanks!


	4. Chapter 4

The Sentinel belongs to Pet Fly. No copyright infringement intended.

Note: The story is pretty much done. I'll be sending out the epilogue in a day or two. Thanks to those who have been reading. I hope you enjoyed it.

* * *

**Part IV**

"Attention! Attention! This is Captain Simon Banks of the Cascade Police Department. Identify yourselves!"

Blair's eyes flashed opened when he heard Simon's voice on the bullhorn. His sigh of relief caught the attention of the other hostages and he motioned them closer.

Almost immediately, his ex-student knelt beside him. "What is it, Teach?"

"Captain Banks," the prone man shivered, suddenly cold. "He's out there. This will be over...soon."

"I hope so, man. For your sake as well as ours." Tommy adjusted the towels around Blair.

The guide shifted restlessly, trying to free himself from the makeshift blankets. There was no time for that. Besides, his arm no longer hurt which meant he could do something. He had to do something.

"Sir, I gotta keep you warm," Tommy protested. "Your body's gone into shock."

"No, s'okay." Blair responded. "Help me up. I have to get to Jim. He needs me. Can't stay in the freezer for very much longer." He continued to ineffectually push at the hands holding him down. Urgency was building within him. It was imperative he get to Jim, even if he had to crawl.

"Please, sir. Mr. Sandburg. Blair." Tommy desperately tried to keep the other man still. "Don't--"

"What the hell is going on here?" A voice boomed, causing everyone to jump.

Blair stopped pushing at Tommy's hands and turned fevered eyes upon their captor. "You...aren't going to get away with this. They've got you surrounded. Surrender and maybe they'll go easy on you."

Jericho gave a short bark of laughter. "How do you figure, kid? I've killed one person, wounded two others, and we're not even counting our frozen cop." He shook his head. "Naw, I don't think your plan's gonna wash. Sorry. Try again." His lips twisted into a parody of a smile.

Anger flared in Blair's eyes. "Damn you," he said in a low voice. "This isn't some game. You're playing with people's lives here. What you're doing is wrong."

Jericho's eyes narrowed. Squatting down beside Blair, he gestured for Tommy to move away. When the young man made no move to leave, the ex-con pointed the gun straight at his chest. "Go stand over there. Now."

Blair swallowed, seeing the determination in the football player's eyes. "Go on, Tommy. It's okay." He didn't want to see the younger man hurt.

Jericho raised an eyebrow. "You'd like to think so, wouldn't you, Blair?"

The wounded man's eyes widened slightly and Jericho laughed at his surprise. "I've been listening. I'm not stupid, you know."

Blair gazed steadily at him. "Oh, I don't know," he said softly, a glint of steel lurking behind the pain reflected in his eyes. "You look like a cowardly idiot to me, hiding behind a bunch of unarmed grocery shoppers."

With a surge of rage, Jericho latched onto Blair's jacket and hauled him forward.

One of Blair's arms dangled, almost totally numb and the blood-soaked diaper fell to the floor. Faces mere inches apart, Jericho said in a deadly voice, "You're gonna pay for that, punk." He yanked the pale young man to his feet and looked over to his two comrades. "Spence, bring the cop out here. I think it's time to get the show on the road."

"Hey, man," One of them protested. "You said no names."

Jericho shrugged and his next words sent a shiver down Blair's spine. "Don't worry about it. It's not like any of these people are gonna tell." He chuckled evilly. "Go get him."

Still dangling from Jericho's grasp, Blair allowed himself a small sigh of relief. They were finally going to let Jim out of the freezer. Maybe things were going to work out after all.

"Don't think this is over, boy," Jericho growled at him. "I'm gonna have him talk to Banks. Then I'm gonna bring him back here and kill him in front of you. Said you were gonna pay."

"No--no," came Blair's anguished cry. The thought of Jim dying sent pain of a different kind shooting through him. He couldn't let this psycho hurt Jim. With a strength he didn't know he still possessed, Blair grasped at Jericho's arm. "You can't do that. What kind of monster are you?"

"Monster? Yeah, I guess you could call me that," Jericho replied. "After all, society made me what I am today."

Blair looked incredulous. "Don't blame society just because you're a lame excuse for a human being."

"You just don't know when to quit, do you?" Jericho's voice shook with fury. "Well, think about this, little man, these people are gonna die because of you. And I'm gonna enjoy every minute of it."

Blair's lower lip trembled whether with anger or fear he didn't know, but his head came up defiantly. "Go to hell, man."

The grip on his jacket tightened briefly and he looked into the eyes of a madman. With a howl, Jericho flung him away like yesterday's dirty laundry, sending him flying toward the canned goods. The anthropologist was vaguely aware of Tommy taking a step toward him. It was all he had time to think about as his momentum suddenly slowed.

Blair's back impacted with the shelves behind him, sending cans of corn and peas tumbling to the ground. Wincing in pain, his shoulder throbbing once again, Blair tried to grab onto the shelves for support. Only one hand was cooperating; the other refused to obey his commands. Weakened by his injuries, he could not support his weight. Blair sprawled in an undignified heap, his breath coming in short pants.

The wounded man closed his eyes. _I can't take much more of this. Please, somebody--Jim--do something._ Lost in his own despair, he didn't hear Jericho send his other man, Cameron, to the front of the store to monitor the situation outside. _Someone, do something._ Kept running through his mind.

* * *

"Damn it, Chief. Stop trying to play hero." Jim's breath came in harsh gasps, like a bull getting ready to charge. He wasn't angry; he wasn't furious. The detective had moved so far beyond such emotions there was no way to describe his current state.

Once again, Blair had taken the full brunt of it. His partner had said enough to rile Jericho, thus provoking him. And while Jim knew his friend had done it to draw fire from the rest of the hostages as well as to throw Jericho off balance enough to make a mistake, Jim didn't have to like it. "Sandburg," he muttered aloud. "When we get out of here you and I are going to have a long talk about controlling your impulses and keeping your mouth shut."

Still thinking about his partner, Jim prowled around the darkened freezer. He couldn't even begin to guess at his partner's current condition and it was eating him up inside. Blair had sounded coherent, but Jim had heard the weariness behind the words, the pain behind the bravado. The detective also knew Blair had lost a lot of blood and his body was feeling the effects of shock; not to mention the bruises he must have suffered after being thrown against the shelves.

Hearing what Jericho had said, what he'd done, and what he planned to do made Jim itch for some action. Luckily for him, the chance to make everything right was upon him. The Sentinel had been listening to the approaching footsteps of his captor. He prepared himself for an offensive attack.

Quickly grabbing a frozen brisket, Jim stood in readiness. He'd soon have his freedom and he would find and take care of Blair. "Come on, you bastard. I'm tired of waiting."

As if in compliance, the door handle began to turn. Tensing, Jim watched the door swing open. He held the frozen meat aloft and as soon as the other man appeared, the detective brandished his makeshift weapon. The meat impacted with the other man's side and he fell to his knees, clutching his ribs. Dropping the meat to the ground, Jim didn't give the villain time to react. He let fly with a right hook and Jim's captor slumped to the floor without a sound.

Grinning in satisfaction, Jim dragged the body into the freezer. Checking the unconscious man's pockets, Jim located a gun and a cell phone. Now armed--and still dangerous-- he left his one time icy prison, securing the door behind him.

The Sentinel paused, cocking his head in a gesture Blair would have found familiar. Using his incredible hearing, he was able to locate the group of hostages to the right of the store as well as the solitary man in the front. Gaze narrowing in concentration, he was able to determine that it was Cameron--Jericho's partner--keeping a lookout at the front of the store.

The detective reached for the cell phone and dialed Simon's number.

The phone was answered on the first ring. "_Banks_.

"Captain, it's Ellison." Jim kept his voice low.

"_Jim? What the hell is going on in there? Are you okay?_" The captain's voice was gruff and Jim knew he was truly concerned.

"You remember Jericho and his pal, Cameron? They attempted to rob the grocery store along with another one of their pals." Jim informed his captain.

Simon swore. "_Jesus. That idiot's out of prison? I remember you telling me about him, Jim. That man's one crazy son of a bitch_."

"You got that right." Jim ground out. "Anyway, I've managed to take one out. Jericho's still with the hostages. Cameron's out front. Can you see him?"

"_Hold a sec_." Jim heard Simon ask for a pair of binoculars. There was a pause. "_I see him, Jim. He's keeping himself pretty well hidden, but he comes out in front of the windows every now and again._

"I'm going after him. When you see me take him down, that's your signal to come in. I'll leave the line on the cell open so you can hear everything." Jim's directions were short and terse.

"_Understood, Jim_," Simon hesitated. "_Sandburg with you? Is he okay? How about the other hostages?_"

Jim's jaw clenched. "From what I can tell, the hostages are fine." He couldn't trust himself to go on.

"_And Sandburg_?" Simon pressed.

"He's been shot, Captain. The bullet's still in him." Jim managed to get out between clenched teeth.

Banks swore. "_We've got ambulances waiting out here, Jim. As soon as we get everything under control, we'll get him the help he needs_."

"Good." Jim didn't feel relieved at all. Until this was all over, his partner was still hurt, still bleeding, still in the hands of a madman. "I'm going after Cameron. Be ready." Without waiting for an acknowledgment, he slipped the phone into his jacket pocket.

The detective crept forward until he was in sight of the front of the store, but still hidden behind a shelf. Checking his borrowed gun and making sure the clip was loaded and ready, he peered around the corner. Eyes narrowing, he saw Cameron tucked close to a wall near the glass doors. He was hidden from view for the moment; Simon and the others couldn't see him.

Quietly, Jim moved forward, gun up and ready. He had just reached Cameron when the other man suddenly pivoted, throwing his leg back in a wide arc.

Jim felt the impact of the foot on his wrist and his gun flew out of his hand to land across the floor out of his reach. Biting back a groan of pain, he quickly reached for Cameron's arm as it came down to bear on him, the gun aimed at his chest.

The struggle for possession of the gun began in earnest, each trying to get control. Like some bizarre dance, they stumbled into the open, neither aware of the police approaching from the other side.

Locked into combat, Jim realized he needed to get the upper hand. He couldn't hold Cameron's gun away from himself indefinitely. With sudden decisiveness, he braced the arm with the weapon in one hand. The other he curled into a fist and drove into Cameron's stomach.

The ex-con bent forward, moaning in pain. Jim took the moment of weakness and closed his hand around the stock of the gun. Intent on wresting the gun from Cameron, he wasn't quick enough to dodge the head barreling toward his solar plexus.

The detective felt a whoosh of air escape his mouth as he stumbled backward and fell, losing his battle over the weapon. He watched as Cameron brought the gun down and aim it at his head. Looking into the barrel, it wasn't his life that flashed before his eyes, but Blair's. His partner needed him. "No, Cameron," he whispered. "I don't think so."

With a quick move which belayed his precarious position, his booted foot shot out and slammed into Cameron's knee. With a feral grin, he watched his foe fall forward with a groan of pain. It still wasn't over yet and Jim reached again for the weapon. Cameron still had some power in him and they continued to wrestle for possession of the gun.

Rolling across the floor, Jim saw the gun come down. It was too close for comfort and Cameron's finger on the trigger did nothing to ease his mind. He continued to struggle for the gun, rage fueling him. The longer he took here, the longer it took for Blair to get medical help. With a burst of strength, the detective guided the gun away from himself. Just as he was sure he had control, Jim felt the gun recoil in his hand as the bullet left the chamber.

The shot echoed in the store.

Then all was silent.

* * *

The hostages stopped movement and looked at one another. They had all heard the shot. Dread falling upon the little group, they turned their eyes toward their captor who was trying to reach his cohorts on the cell phone.

"Damn it, Spence, answer the phone." When no one answered the call, Jericho flung the phone in rage. Not waiting for the shattered pieces to settle, he grabbed his gun and began swinging it in front of him. Searching wildly, panic making his movements jerky, he prepared to be assaulted from the front. He forgot momentarily about his hostages behind him.

Blair used the distraction to his advantage. "Tommy. Tommy." He hissed, getting the younger man's attention. "Tommy, you've got to help me up. I need to get up. My partner's out there. I can feel it and he needs me."

Tommy knelt beside him. "Sir, you don't have the strength. Please, we need to be still. That man's crazy. If we don't draw attention to ourselves--"

Blair reached with his good arm and latched on to Tommy's sweatshirt. He could see the terror in his ex-student's eyes and his heart went out to him. Unfortunately, he had no time to sooth fears. His own time was growing short. He was savvy enough to realize his own predicament. Shivering with cold constantly, he could feel rivulets of sweat glide down his face. It didn't help either that his vision was blurry. The police observer couldn't think about that now. Jim was out there, possibly hurt maybe worse. He would dig down deep within himself for the strength he would need to stand. Blair had to help Jim. He would do this. There was no choice. "Tommy, listen to me. We have a chance here. You've got to help me up. Once I'm on my feet, get these people away from here. Don't argue with me. We haven't much time. In fact, start telling the others to move now."

Tommy still looked doubtful, but one look at the anthropologist's determine glare, he did what he was told. As he bent and slipped an arm around Blair's waist, he told the others to quietly make there way from the area.

Leaning heavily on his ex-student, Blair watched the other hostages slip away and sighed with relief. Once on his feet, he took deep even breaths finding the resolve he needed to stay upright. Gently pushing at Tommy, he urged, "Okay, man, time for you to go. Hit the road. Get away. No arguments."

The younger man looked ready to argue anyway, but Blair shook his head feebly. He clutched at the shelf behind him for support as spots swam before his eyes. He wasn't going to be able to do this much longer. "Go, Tommy. Please," he whispered.

With one last look, Tommy nodded and disappeared.

At that moment, Jericho jerked around and pointed his gun at Blair. The look in his eyes scared the younger man and for the first time he felt he had looked into the abyss of madness. Tensing, he waited for the bullet to hit its target as he silently prayed for Jim's forgiveness. 'I'm sorry, big guy. I tried. I really did."

"Freeze! Cascade police!" Simon Banks shouted as he and other police personnel surrounded the madman pointing a gun at Blair. "The EMTs are on the way in, Sandburg. Just hang in there." Simon added, not taking his eyes from Jericho.

Blair didn't skip a beat. "Is Jim okay?" His voice trembled and the captain was hard put to decide if it was with pain or fear. Sandburg looked like hell.

Banks gave a short nod. "He's fine. Cameron's dead, though. Does that surprise you, Jericho?" The captain once again focused his attention on the criminal who had yet to lower the gun.

The other man laughed, the sound was slightly distorted. "What does it matter?" He pulled back the hammer of his gun. "It's the punk you should be worried about."

"Put it down, Jericho. Now!" Banks ordered.

Jericho laughed again and maintained his aim on Blair.

"Do as he says, scumbag." came a quiet voice, so thick with furious intensity that it quickly grabbed everyone's attention.

Blair finally allowed himself a sigh of relief as he saw Jim step up to Jericho. He had been wondering where his partner was, but just now realized that what had just transpired had only taken a couple of minutes. "Jim, thank god you're okay," he breathed. Blair wasn't surprised to see blood staining his friend's clothes. Still, it was a shock. But Simon had assured him that Jim was okay.

Jim spared him a brief glance, taking in his partner's appearance. Blair looked ready to fall over any minute and the Sentinel wanted desperately to go to his guide and take care of him. He couldn't do that, though, until the situation was under control.

With that thought in mind, Jim calmly placed the muzzle of his gun against Jericho's forehead. Pushing gently, he watched Jericho's eyes come up to meet his. "You ready for that trip to hell?" He asked softly, emotions deceptively under control. He pulled back the hammer. "I'm ready to send you there. You shouldn't mess with a man's partner, Jericho. It's almost a sacred thing."

Jericho's eyes widened and he finally realized fear. Lowering his arm, he allowed for another policeman to take the gun from his hand, but his eyes never left Ellison's face.

"Jim," Simon spoke. "We got him. You can put the gun down."

"No," Jim replied dangerously. "He nearly killed Blair. I can't let that go unpunished."

"Ellison!" Simon barked in his best captain's voice, suddenly very much aware of Jim's state of mind. He'd seen him like this once, when he was holding Quinn over a mine shaft. It had taken all of Simon's persuasive powers to bring his detective back from the edge. "Put your weapon down. Don't blow away your career--your life--for this asshole."

Still, Jim hadn't moved. There was a feral gleam in his eye and he could feel the blood pounding in his ears. He was on the hunt and he was out for blood. He stepped closer to Jericho.

"Detective Ellison!" Simon barked, alarmed. He wondered if he would be able to stop Jim this time. Jim didn't even appear to be listening.

"Simon," a quiet pain-filled voice drew his attention. "Simon, he's having a type of z--" Blair started before realizing their audience. It wouldn't do to let all the cops know of Jim's zone-outs.

Whatever he had been about to say seemed to make sense to Banks who nodded.

"Let me try, Captain." On weak legs, Blair tried to push himself away from the shelves. When it didn't seem to work, he abandoned the idea and began talking to Jim from where he stood. "Come on, Jim. It's all over now. Everyone's safe. I'm okay. Put the gun down."

The Sentinel didn't seem to have registered his guide's voice and he continued to ruthlessly drill the muzzle of the gun into Jericho's forehead. Only one thought pounded in his head, justice. For Blair.

Feeling dizziness and exhaustion creeping over him, Blair desperately tried again. "Please, man, put the gun down. I--I--" His voice cracked and he swayed. "I need you. I can't do this anymore, Jim. Please, I need for you to help me..." Weakly, his voice trailed off. He didn't know what else to do.

For a moment, Jim made no move. Then he stepped away and handed his gun to one of the uniformed cops standing next to him. Apparently dismissing Jericho and everyone else, he walked toward his partner.

Simon watched, once again amazed at the power of their bond. Still keeping an eye on the pair, he issued orders for the medics to enter the now secure grocery store and allowed Sorenson and Woods to take Jericho away.

Oblivious to the action taking place behind him, Jim reached his best friend. "It's okay, Chief. I'm here. I've got you." He wrapped his arms around Blair just as the younger man collapsed. Holding onto him tightly, Jim guided his friend to the floor.

"J--Jim?" Blair managed, eyes half closed.

"Shh, Chief. The medics are on their way in. You'll be patched up in no time." Jim brushed dark curls clinging to Blair's forehead. He could feel the fever coursing through the body he held.

"J--Jim? Are you okay, man? Freezer...awfully cold. Please be okay," Blair babbled, voice wavering.

Jim closed his eyes briefly before lying his chin atop Blair's head, feeling at peace since this whole ordeal began. "I'm okay now, buddy. I'm okay now."

Blair sighed. "'m glad. So worried..."

"No need to worry anymore. Everything's fine. _I'm_ fine." Jim began stroking Blair's forehead softly as the paramedics knelt down beside him.

"Good," Blair mumbled. "Jim?"

Jim sighed in exasperation. Getting his partner to keep quiet was a chore at the best of times. "Yeah, Sandburg?"

Closing his eyes fully, Blair relaxed even more into Jim's embrace. "Can't feel my arm, man. Something's wrong."

Jim's jaw twitched and he clutched at his partner. "I know, Chief. I know. We'll take care of it. The medics are going to help you. You ready for a ride?"

The Sentinel felt the nod against his chest. "Yeah," his partner mumbled. "Just-just don't leave me, Jim."

"Not a chance, buddy. Not a chance," Jim murmured before releasing Blair into the care of the paramedics. The younger man was unconscious as he was loaded onto the stretcher, but true to his word, the Sentinel never left his guide's side.

* * *

Epilogue to follow. Thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

Hi, everyone! I'm terribly sorry for being late with this. Thanks for your patience. We're finally at the end.

Also, thanks to everyone who reviewed. I appreciate it.

Warning: This bit is pretty schmoopy.

Disclaimer: The Sentinel and its characters belong to Bilson and DeMeo.

* * *

Epilogue

**3 Days Later**

"Man, am I glad to be home," Blair declared as he carefully lowered himself on the couch. "Three days in the hospital is three days too long."

"You'll get no arguments from me, partner." Jim walked into the kitchen. "You hungry? I can make us some sandwiches."

Blair shook his head. He yawned and leaned back into the cushions of the couch, mindful of his arm in the sling. His shoulder was going to hurt for a while and the doctor had said something about therapy for his arm, but he was going to be all right. "Naw, not hungry right now. I think I'm gonna crash for a few hours. Whatever meds they forced on me at the hospital seems to be catching up with me."

Jim smiled and moved to stand behind the couch. Glancing down at his partner, he was again awash with relief. It had been a very near thing. Getting to the hospital on that fateful night and waiting for hours for news of the surgery had taken all that was left of him. "You need your rest, Chief. It's gonna take a while to get your strength back. You've been through a lot," the detective said softly.

The younger man met his eyes. "I'm sorry, Jim. I'm really sorry for making you worry about me."

Jim reached down to ruffle the curly hair. "Sandburg, there's nothing for you to be sorry about. I just wish--" Suddenly, Jim's throat closed and he couldn't speak passed the lump in his throat. Blair had almost died on the operating table. The loss of blood coupled with the movement of the bullet and the lack of immediate attention had almost been too much for the younger man's body to take. They had been lucky no vital organs had been damaged, but the bullet had managed to nick a bone and drill a tunnel through muscle and tissue. It had taken the doctors hours to repair the damage. The surgery had barely been a success before infection had immediately set in. Hence, Blair's long stay in the hospital.

"Hey, man," Blair called softly, reaching up to touch his Sentinel's arm lightly. "I'm right here. Everything's all right."

Jim swallowed, fighting for control over his emotions. "Can I ask you something, Chief? Why did you do it?"

Blair looked puzzled. "Do what?"

"Why did you take the bullet that was meant for me," Jim said the words quietly.

The younger man's tone was incredulous. "You have to ask? Jim, don't you understand you're my best friend and I'd do anything to keep you safe?" He shook his head. "If you've been thinking 'it should have been me instead of him' for the past three days..."

Jim flushed guiltily. He'd been doing exactly that. Trust his guide to see straight through him.

"Jim, I can't believe you," Blair said in affectionate exasperation. "I made the choice. I knew what could happen when I ran at you like I did. But I had to. Do understand that? There really wasn't anything else I could have done."

"Chief," Jim frowned. "You could have left it alone. You could have stayed out of it."

Blair snorted. "I couldn't have done that anymore than you could have." He stood and moved around the couch to stand next to Jim. Earnestly he said, "It's not even the Sentinel/Guide thing. It's that friendship thing. You're my family, man, I couldn't let anything happen to you."

Jim stared at him before pulling the shorter man to him. He wrapped Blair in a hug mindful of the other's injury. "It goes both ways, Chief," Jim whispered as he felt an answering squeeze.

"I know. I know." Blair was content to stay the Sentinel's embrace. Jim seemed to need it, to reassure himself all was right once again.

Jim held on a moment longer before releasing his friend. In a gruff voice he said, "You aren't supposed to be up and around yet, Sandburg. Doctor's orders. Better park yourself on the couch."

Blair rolled his eyes, knowing at once his partner was trying to distance himself from the emotional scene, trying to restore everything to normal. He played along. "How am I supposed to sit still? I've got stuff to do, man. Women to date..."

"The couch, Blair," Jim ordered, but he was smiling. "If you're a good little boy maybe I'll even let one of your girlfriends up here to see you. Now do as your told."

"Back to being bossy, huh?" Blair said without heat as he eased back down among the cushions, stretching out. His shoulder was beginning to throb. "And what do you mean you _might_ let _one_ up here."

Jim chuckled. "Doc said no strenuous activity. Remember? So until he gives you the all clear, you'll be limited to certain company."

Blair's groan wasn't entirely faked. He closed his eyes and willed himself relax. "Man, that's cruel and unusual."

"You okay?" Jim was at his guide's side, all signs of levity forgotten.

"Yeah, just hurts a bit," Blair mumbled.

Jim frowned, "Just relax for a while. You're not due for a pain pill for another hour."

Eyes still closed, Blair shook his head. "No way. I'm not taking anymore of those horse pills. Lord knows what they're doing to my system."

"Chief," Jim called warningly. "We're not arguing about this. You'll take what the doctor prescribed. I won't let you have a setback because you're being stubborn."

Blair finally opened his eyes and glanced at his partner. He wanted to protest, but he could still see the pain and guilt reflected his friend's deep blue eyes. The anthropologist had really scared Jim this time. Least he could do was not make things any worse. "Fine, man," he answered tiredly, not missing the look of surprise on Jim's face. "I guess you're right. 'Sides, in an hour I might be begging for that pill."

"Glad you see it my way," Jim replied lightly, glad that Sandburg wasn't going to argue with him. He sat on the arm of the couch next to Blair's head. "By the way, Tommy called a few times while you were in the hospital. Wanted to make sure you were okay."

"That was nice of him," Blair mumbled sleepily. "Why didn't he stop by to see me?"

"He did," Jim said. "You were still out of it." The detective laughed suddenly and Blair eyed him in puzzlement. "Chief, he was really worried about you. Seems you gave him quite a scare when you started talking to someone who wasn't there."

Blair's lips curled in amusement. "Yeah, I guess I did sound kinda funny. Hope he chalked it up to delirium."

"Naw." Jim turned and patted Blair's cheek. "Told him you talked to invisible people all the time."

Blair raised an eyebrow. "Your sense of humor's weak, man. Thank God your five other senses make up for it."

Jim laughed loudly, causing Blair to grin. It was nice to see his partner at ease again. "Now who's the comedian, Sandburg?"

Blair kept smiling as Jim rose from his seat. "Anything to hear you laugh, big guy."

The detective exchanged a look with his friend as he acknowledged the words. "You once told me that friends cared. I'm glad you're my friend, Chief." He spoke softly. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." Blair held his gaze a moment longer before yawning loudly.

"Get some shut eye," Jim suggested, grabbing the blanket from the back of the couch and tucking it around Blair. "I'm going to make some sandwiches. You can eat when you get up."

"Sounds good," came Blair's sleep soaked voice as he snuggled deeper into his makeshift bed.

An exclamation from the kitchen had his half closed eyelids snapping open and he struggled to a sitting position. "Jim? You okay, man?"

"Fine, Chief," Jim responded. "You'll never believe it, though." He shook his head, making his way back into the living room to stand over his partner.

Blair peered over the sofa at him with a frown. "Believe what?"

"We don't have any bread. And we're still out of milk."

His announcement seemed to stun Blair. The young anthropologist shook his head. "Man, we are not going to the store. Forget it. Why don't you call Gin's? They deliver. 'Sides, all of a sudden I'm craving sesame chicken."

Jim shook his head and grinned. "Sounds like a plan, Chief." He really wasn't in the mood to tackle a grocery store right now. It might take him and Sandburg weeks before they felt comfortable going back into one. In the meantime, eating out was going to put a serious dent in his pocketbook.

"Glad you think so." Blair grinned smugly, thankful that yet another crisis had been averted...at least momentarily. He began yawning in earnest now. "Wake me when it gets here," he mumbled before settling back down and closing his eyes.

"Will do, partner," Jim replied softly already detecting the even breathing of a person sound asleep. He gazed at the sleeping form a moment before lying a hand on Blair's forehead. "Thanks for not leaving me, Chief. Don't know what I'd do if you did." He stayed a moment longer before moving to pick up the cordless phone.

"Gin's? Yeah. Do you deliver? Good. I'd like an order of sesame chicken..."

**The End**


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